Protecting Gabriel
by loverose14
Summary: Part 2 of Protecting the Winchesters. Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything recognizable.
1. Chapter 1

This fanfiction is part two of _Protecting the Winchesters_. If you have not read the original fanfiction, do so before you continue, as you will not be able to understand several of the plot points without the prior knowledge provided in _Protecting the Winchesters._

Link: s/11010329/1/Protecting-the-Winchesters

Thank you :)  
~loverose14


	2. Chapter 2

When she finally regained consciousness, the first thing she became aware off was the light streaming through the window and the comfortable warmth of the room. Then it was the intense pressure on her right hand. Moving her head sent a wave of pain down her neck, but she was now able to see that a large hand was squeezing her fingers as if she was the last chance at life. Her eyes followed the desperate hand up its arm to an anxious and passed out Dean Winchester, drooling on her blanket. He was half sitting in a chair, half uncomfortably leaning on the bed where she was carefully tucked beneath the sheets.

The tingling in her fingers becoming uncomfortable, she squeezed his over-large fingers, trying to rouse the older Winchester. "Dean." The scratching in her throat brought tears to her eyes, but Dean began to stir against the blanket, raising his head to blurrily blink at Emily.

He looked, frankly, awful, as if he hadn't slept in several weeks, living off only coffee and whatever someone force-fed him. As her open eyes registered in his mind, he quietly asked, "Em?" as if he distrusted what he saw before him.

She smiled, instantly regretting the decision as her cracked lips immediately split in several places. A shaking pile of emotional Winchester was above her in a second, as Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck. Her hand weakly stroked his hair as he cried into her shoulder.

As he began to calm down, the dehydration became incessant, and she croaked out, "Water?" blinking away the sudden tears at the pain.

Dean was off her in an instant, fumbling for the full glass on the bedside table while hastily wiping at his eyes. She tried to sit up, but tensing the muscles in her abdomen sent a wave of pain through her body. Dean was immediately pushing her back into the mattress, alleviating the pressure on her wound. "Don't move, princess," his voice broke.

He slowly piled up the pillows behind her back so that she was elevated, but putting no strain on her abdominal muscles. Her wings were spread out beneath the covers as well, and he was careful to avoid them as he stacked the pillows. "Here," he muttered, carefully bringing the glass to her lips. As soon as the first drop hit her tongue, she desperately wanted to drain the entire glass, but Dean held back, only giving her a little at a time, allowing her stomach to adjust.

When half the glass was gone, he put it back on the bedside table before moving to sit by her on the bed. "What happened?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but the burn in her throat had faded.

"You, uh…you tried to be the friggin' hero. I…I almost lost you, princess," he wouldn't meet her eyes, but his hand found hers on the blankets.

"How-how long's it been?"

He audibly swallowed, squeezing her hand gently. "Three and a half days. Gabriel…he…"

"That was real?" Their eyes met, and Dean could see the tiny shreds of hope in her gaze.

"Yeah," he breathed. "He's in the kitchen."

"He's still here?"

Dean frowned, watching her eyes widen, wondering why that fact had taken her by surprise. "Of course he's still here, princess."

The bedroom door opened with a quiet creak, and Sam ducked in, attempting not to wake Dean. When he looked up, his breath caught in his throat, and the glass he was holding shattered against the floor. "E-Em?" his voice cracked.

"Hey, Sammy," she whispered.

In an instant, the second overgrown mass of emotional Winchester was hugging her, more tightly than she would have liked, but she weakly embraced him, running her fingers through his hair. The door was suddenly thrown open, and, as a frantic Bobby glanced from the shattered glass to the scene before him, his posture immediately softened.

"Bobby," she muttered into Sam's shoulder. Sam stood up, though still looming above her as though he was frightened that she would disappear if he left her side.

"Hey, kid," the older man muttered, carefully moving towards the bed, ignoring the pile of glass on the floor.

"How's the bite?" she asked, eyeing the neatly wrapped gauze on Bobby's upper arm.

"Don't worry about me," he immediately replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "How 'ya feeling?"

"Well, I'm alive, so already better than I expected," she tried to joke, but she could feel the tension in the room immediately grow. "Guys, I'm serious. Give me a week or two, and I'll be back to kicking your ass across the country."

Sam shot her a watery smile, the mop of his hair falling in his eyes. "Sam, your shoulder–"

"Don't worry, Dean popped it back in. And his head's fine, too. Apparently, he has a thick skull, but that's something we already knew."

She laughed lightly, only to cringe in pain a moment later. "Easy, tiger," Dean lightly pushed against her shoulder, getting her to relax against the pillows.

"Sorry," she muttered, weakly brushing a few strands of hair from her face.

"Don't apologize," Bobby said immediately, comfortingly placing a hand on her covered foot. "Not your fault."

She nodded, taking a breath. After a moment, Sam hesitantly spoke up, "Em? Uh…Gabriel's in the kitchen, but, uh, he's not sure that you want to see him."

Her eyebrows immediately pulled together as she looked up at him. "Why?"

Dean cleared his throat. "That…that may be my fault."

Ignoring the pain in her neck, she moved to glare at him. "What did you do?"

Dean opened his mouth a few times, attempting to find the right words before Bobby cut in. "Let's not bother you with the gory details, but Dean mostly blamed him for your situation. Can't say that I disagree with him, but Dean may have taken it a bit too far, all things considered."

"All things considered–" Dean growled before Emily cut him off.

" _Dean_. I'm alive, and I'm fine. Leave him alone."

Even in her weakened state, Dean froze beneath her menacing gaze, and all rebuke died on his tongue. "Fine."

"A-aparently," Sam hesitantly began again, "you've been praying to him as well, and…well, he thinks that you blame him, or something like that."

"Blame him?" she repeated. "For what?"

"I…I don't know exactly. But he's hesitant about coming in here," Sam said.

"Look," Bobby cut in, "why don't you get some rest, and I can talk to him about it. Okay?"

She was still conflicted, but Bobby's expression didn't leave much room for argument. "Fine. Just…make sure he's okay."

Bobby gave her a reassuring smile and nod, before he ushered the boys out of the room. It took a good deal of bickering for her brothers to finally leave, but in a few moments she was alone. She fluttered her wings beneath her, getting more comfortable as the energy drain of managing the conversation had her eyelids drooping. Eyes fluttering closed, she fell asleep while still attempting to wrap her mind around the fact that Gabriel had returned.


	3. Chapter 3

Before her mind had the chance to catch up the next morning, she pulled her arms above her head, and her wings stretched out beneath her past the edges of the bed. She didn't realize until a moment later that she was supposed to be in excruciating pain. Her hand dipped beneath the sheets to gently prod at her stab wound, only to find that there was a minimal amount to pain.

Pulling her wings into her back, she slowly sat up, closing her eyes at the sudden dizziness. When her head had cleared, she noticed that the pile of glass by the door was gone, and the room was empty. Her legs swung over the side of the bed, slipping from beneath the covers, and she noticed that the brace on her knee was gone.

She quickly drank the new, full glass of water that someone had left her, intending to go find her brothers. However, as soon as the stench of her breath bounced back at her from the surface of the glass, she decided that her hygiene was slightly more urgent. Her legs were shaky as she moved to stand, her muscles having gone without use for three days. Or was it four now? The light outside had dimmed considerably from before, so it was either early morning or late afternoon.

Pushing off the bed, she wobbled dangerously on her feet before managing to find her balance and shuffle to the bathroom. The harsh overhead light blinded her for a second until she was able to adjust, her knuckles white as she grasped tightly at the countertop for support. Her hands shook slightly as she moved grab a toothbrush.

The normal rituals of the everyday activity instilled a sort of calm in her chest, and she found herself brushing her teeth multiple times. Soon enough, the running water against her back also proved to be therapeutic, and she could feel herself relaxing as the steam filled her lungs.

"Em?" Dean's voice was slightly panicked on the other side of the door. "You okay?"

"I'm good," she said, only just loud enough for him to hear. "What time is it?"

"Five thirty. I think they're working on making you something for dinner. How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Good, actually. Better," she answered honestly, rubbing an ample amount of shampoo into her scalp.

"Good," Dean seemed slightly surprised. "Great. I'll, uh…yell if you need me then."

"Okay. Thanks, Dean." He hesitated, deciding not to respond.

She was out of the shower twenty minutes later, stepping heavily onto the towel, her weak knees threatening to buckle. The feeling of a fresh pair of jeans was comforting, and she found herself brushing her teeth once more before finally feeling comfortable in her skin again. Staring into the mirror, she could see the tight, pink skin stretched in a line across her abdomen. It struck her how small and innocent the scar looked, yet the wound had almost killed her.

Instead of letting herself linger on the thought, she pulled one of Dean's old Zeppelin T-shirts over her head and smoothed her damp hair back. The carpet was rough under her feet as she padded to the bedroom door.

Sam was in the center of the kitchen when she entered, Gabriel by his side, stirring something on the stove. The scent of smoky spices filled the kitchen, slowly seeping through the rest of the house. Their backs were to her, and Dean was arguing with them from across the room. She never really noticed before, but there was a stark difference in Sam and Gabriel's heights. Sam had at least a good six inches on her angel.

"What the hell is wrong with Mac-and-Cheese?" Dean was sprawled across the couch, his leg propped up on the armrest, even though the cast had been destroyed in the fight. It only struck her now as she looked around that they were in Gabriel's ranch in northern Montana, probably a few hours from Rufus's cabin.

"She needs food to heal." Gabriel's voice was the same as it had sounded in her head but more realistic, and she suddenly found that she could quite breathe properly. Before Dean could shoot off a sarcastic remark, Gabriel continued, "And, as much as I hate to say it, good ol' Mac-and-Cheese isn't nutritious enough."

"As much I hate to admit it, he's right Dean," Sam turned around to face his brother. Catching Emily's figure in his peripheral, his head shot up to meet her gaze. "Em."

"Hey, Sam." Her voice was quiet as she gave him a small smile.

Gabriel spun around, wooden spoon still in his hand, bits, of rice clinging to it. God help her, he looked exactly the same from when she last saw him, down to the small grease stain on the pocket of his jacket from when they had tried cooking their own French fries. Then she saw his eyes.

They were more sunken in, like Dean's. The playful gleam they always held had dimmed, and for once he looked as old as he actually was.

"Hi," she swallowed, staring up at him.

"Hey." His voice was quiet when he answered her, and the spoon fell slightly as he smiled tentatively.

The pause that followed was comfortable, like she had finally come home. Sam and Dean, however, glanced nervously from one person to the other, unsure of how to proceed. "T-thank you," Emily began quietly, glancing down at the floor, "for fixing me up…a-and getting there when you did."

Her eyes flashed to his again, waiting desperately for him to answer, as if his words could be anything but kind. His smile grew more confident, and the spoon dropped to his side as he relaxed. "I missed you."

She gave a quiet, breathy laugh, relieved at his words. "Me too."

"You should sit down. It's almost done," he told her softly. Her eyes flickered down to the large pan on the stove, and he was quick to answer her unspoken question. "Paella. The recipe you like, strait from Valencia." He couldn't help the hint of pride in his voice.

She beamed up at him, unable to control the way her stomach jumped at his words. The small kitchen table was fairly close, and, as she moved forward, Sam helped her to sit on one of the stools, still clearly nervous over her wound. As she got comfortable, Dean limped into the kitchen to lean against the counter. "Where's Bobby?" she asked.

"Milk run," Sam explained, carefully sliding a glass of water on the table and taking the seat beside her.

While she was distracted with Sam, Gabriel placed a large, ceramic bowl in front of her, spoon resting on the side. Her gaze flickered up to meet his. "Thank you."

Gabriel sank down into the seat opposite Sam, watching as she practically inhaled the dish of rice. "God, I missed your cooking," she muttered through a mouthful.

"I can see that," he smirked. He hesitated, "How are you feeling?"

"Good," she nodded. "Better. Not dead." Dean scoffed, and she looked up at him. "What?"

"Nothing." It came out more defensive than he would have liked.

"'Nothing'?" she repeated skeptically. "Dean, I swear I'm fine. What 's going on?"

"I…" Sam shot him a look from across the table, and Dean immediately quieted, shifting his weight. "Nothing."

Gabriel cleared his throat, glancing between the people in front of him. "Dean and I have been…" he began carefully, " _disagreeing_ on some things."

Emily turned her gaze on her brother. "Dean?"

"Look, I just," he broke off, trying to ignore Sam's stare as he sighed. "It just sort of pisses me off that he's been gone for a year, claiming that God wouldn't let him see you, and now he thinks he can just waltz in here, make you fancy food, and everything's gonna be fine," he said, steadily becoming angrier. "He has no friggin' idea what you went through."

She swallowed, staring down at the empty bowl before her, unsure of how to respond. "Em," Gabriel began quietly. "Why don't we go take a walk, get you some vitamin D, and I can explain everything."

The nod came naturally, and she stood up, following him to the door. "Em–"

She looked over at Dean, letting Gabriel step out of the house first. "I just got him back," she shook her head gently, her eyes conveying the pain she felt. "Please, Dean. At least give him a chance."

Dean set his jaw, staring down at the floor. She stepped outside, letting the screen door close behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

Gabriel was waiting for her at the bottom of the porch steps, staring up at the few white clouds that dotted the sky. "I missed the sky more than I thought I would," he said as she came to stand beside him. "It's the simple things you take for granted, like…never mind," he bit back the rest of his thought, instead turning his gaze to her.

She hesitated, unsure of how to respond to that. "Where have you been? You know, where you couldn't see the sky?"

"Heaven." He began to walk parallel to the house, and she immediately followed, quickly falling into step beside him. "In the video, I told you about that deal I made with Dad after Lucifer…well, anyway, apparently, growing back grace is a very slow process. Slower than I had thought. I was getting pissed at Dad, and Dad was..." Gabriel sighed, glancing up at the sky. "Dad was just being his usual self. Hasn't changed a bit after all these years. How are you feeling?" he asked suddenly, looking down at her.

"I'm fine," was her automatic reply. "But…" she hesitated, "you don't have all your grace. Otherwise, when you healed me…"

"I know. I strong-armed Dad into letting me go early."

"Why?" she frowned, staring up at him.

"I couldn't lose you, kiddo."

They were both silent for a while as she attempted to processes what he had said. "So…so even when you weren't here…you were still watching?"

"Of course. Of course, sweetheart. I-I know what you had to go through without me, and…I'm so sorry. I know how hard it must've been, loosing Balthazar." She set her jaw at the sudden sting in her eyes, and avoided his gaze. "I spoke with him before…he had an idea that Castiel suspected him."

"Wait. The morning Sam came home after Castile had broken the barrier in head…was that you, talking to Balthazar in the kitchen?"

He took a breath. "Yeah, that was me."

"Why…why could you see him but not me?" she asked, voice thick with emotion.

"'Cause Dad's a dick!" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He's got His reasons for everything…most of which I either don't agree with or don't understand. Dad wanted me in heaven as much as possible, but, when I had information on Castiel or Crowley, I was able to sneak out and get it to Balthazar. It's how he got the address so quickly to rescue you and prevent Castile from cracking Purgatory."

"So…so if your original agreement was to not see me until your grace had fully healed, how…I mean, why did…" she bit her lip, attempting to word the question properly.

"After Dad saw you weren't going to make it, he let me go. I…" Gabriel sounded close to tears. Emily quickly slipped her hand into his, and his fingers immediately closed around hers. "I'm just glad I got here in time."

"Me too." She let herself enjoy the warmth of his hand against hers before she asked, "How have you been doing?"

"Good." Much like her "I'm fine," it was a conditioned response. "My grace is – was – a little more than half restored, making me less powerful than the average angel, but still strong than a human."

"Was?" she asked.

"It, uh…it tends to be difficult to heal a mortally wounded guardian, as they're already so difficult to kill. Even at full power it would've taken a bit out of me."

"I'm sorry," the words immediately came out of her mouth as the guilt pooled in her stomach.

"Don't apologize, Em," he said. "I would do so much more a thousand times over if it meant you were safe."

She stared down at her toes. "I don't want you to."

Gabriel halted in his tracks, his hand pulling at hers to stop. "What?"

"I don't want you to," she repeated, staring up at him. "As much as you care for me, I feel that, too. If you ended up sacrificing yourself for me, I wouldn't be able to cope. I already know that. When I felt Balthazar leave, Sam was the only thing that kept me sane. I know I have a stronger bond with you, a-and I'm afraid that if you go…" She took a breath, staring back at the ranch that had grown to the size of a quarter in the distance. "Death told me how to finally end it. And he was proven right after the bounty hunter attack."

She could hear him take a breath to speak, but she immediately cut him off, "Look, I'm not saying I'm gonna to anything irrational. I just mean that sacrificing yourself for me won't do you any good, 'cause I'll just end up going with you. After Balthazar…I've figured out that you're my charge, too."

Mixed emotions pulled at his features as he started down at her. "Okay. Okay, Em, I won't. You have my word."

"Good," she turned around, pulling back to their original path away from the ranch.

It took a while for Gabriel to speak again. "I've missed you."

"Me too." She smiled to herself. "Me too."

They walked another quarter mile before Gabriel decided that the exercise was too much for her recovery and turned them around. The walk back was spent cracking jokes and becoming comfortable with each other again, until eventually the conversation turned toward her brothers.

"How's Sam's shoulder, really?" she asked. "I know they both say they're fine, but that night…they looked pretty bad."

"Tougher than they look, surprisingly," Gabriel chuckled, comfortingly rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "Sam's still favoring his shoulder a bit, just to be safe. Dean's been nursing a headache, but to be fair he's barely slept. And Bobby's fine. He'll have one hellava scar, but it'll heal in time. They're all going to be fine, I promise, sweetheart."

"Good. I…" she hesitated. "I'm worried about them…getting used to you. I mean, Dean only found out less than a month ago that you were the one I lived with when he wasn't there. And I know you three have your history."

"The dickbags are just gonna have to get used to it."

"Gabriel!" she exclaimed, looking up at him.

"What?" he shrugged. "If they don't like it, then too bad. I'm not going anywhere."

"Just…All I'm asking is that you try. At least make an effort?" she pleaded.

He was ready with another snide remark, but a quick glance at her expression had him melting like putty. "Fine," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "I really hate it when you do that," he laughed.

"I know," she smirked, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

He held the screen door open for her as she climbed the porch, and she was immediately greeted by the cool AC and Sam's voice. "I can't do this anymore, and it hasn't even been a week. Dean, you of all people know–"

"Sam," Dean immediately cut him off, catching Emily's eye in the doorway. He was sprawled out across the couch, nursing a beer in one hand and pressing an ice pack to his head with the other. Sam was standing above him, shoulders tensed in anger. As Dean voiced the warning, he spun around, features immediately relaxing as he saw her.

"You okay, Sammy?" she asked as Gabriel shut the door behind them.

The younger Winchester opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, only to close it again. He foundered for a few more seconds until Bobby spoke up, "Sam's been getting a bit stir crazy, and he wants to go on a case."

"Oh," she turned to look at Bobby, missing the surprised expression on both her brother's faces. "Where is it?"

"Not too far, only a couple hours south. It seemed simple at first. Thought it might be a ghost. Then something else popped up in the same town, and it's starting to look more and more like a witch. Sam wants to check it out to be safe, and I don't have any other contacts in the area that can get here as fast," Bobby told her.

"That sounds good. I think we could use something like that. What's the issue?" she asked.

Bobby stood up from his seat by the window, making his way toward the group. "Dean just wasn't sure about leaving you, considering everything that's gone down in the last few days."

"L-leaving me? I can hunt."

A chorus of voices immediately rose in protest, and she raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, fine. But I can at least do some research while you're hunting the thing."

"No," Gabriel interceded immediately. "Here is the safest place for you until you're healed."

She frowned. "When are you leaving?"

"Sam was thinking tonight. He's got a really bad case of cabin fever," Bobby said.

"Tonight?"

"Look, Em," Dean said from the couch. He was sitting up now, the icepack forgotten on a pillow. "There could be more people dying right now, and we just wanna get back into the job for a bit, see how it goes. Promise we'll be back soon."

Sam had an incredibly guilty expression, but she attributed that to the idea of leaving her. "I'd be going with, as I've had more witch experience than the two of them combined," Bobby said, taking a swig of his beer.

She hesitated. "Alright. Just be careful."


	5. Chapter 5

"So," she began as they watched the impala pull out of Gabriel's driveway, " _Friend's_ re-runs and a beer?"

"No alcohol," he immediately replied.

A sarcastic remark died on her lips when she looked up and saw the grim expression on his face. "Sorry," she muttered, slipping a hand into his. "Bad joke." She had forgotten that he knew about the night she lost Balthazar and turned to Bobby's whiskey.

"It's okay." His voice was unusually quiet as they continued to stare out the window, watching the Impala's lights fade into the distance until they were twinkling red lights reminiscent of stars.

" _Friend's_ re-runs sound good though," he finally suggested.

"You do have a nice couch," she smiled, her eyes flickering up to the sky as the last colors of sunset faded.

"That I do," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh, stop," she laughed, moving toward the living room, the archangel on her heels. "Where's your candy stash? And don't even start, I know you have one here somewhere."

"I…I do," he began hesitantly, "but, unfortunately you can't have any."

"Wha–"

"I know, I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I would share, but sugar lowers your immune system. You can't afford that right now."

"Dick," she muttered, curling up into the corner of the couch, waiting for him to turn the television on.

"I know, I'm sorry, sweetheart." He sat beside her, grabbing the remote. "I can make you something to eat, though, if you're hungry," he offered.

"I'm good," she yawned, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch.

"You want to lie down?"

"You mind?" she mumbled.

He shook his head, "Not at all."

She moved to lay on top of him, so the blanket covered them both. Turning her gaze to the large plasma screen, she listened to Gabriel's heartbeat through his shirt, trying not to think about that night in the mountains of northern Italy. "You good?" his voice called her back from her thoughts.

"Yeah," she cleared her throat. "You?"

"Practically perfect," he tried joked, but the mirth that was usually behind his voice wasn't present.

She didn't respond as he hit play, and the familiar theme song echoed throughout the room. Relaxing into his chest, she sighed, wishing that he had never said anything that night. She wasn't often uncomfortable and hesitant around him, and she hated it.

Seeming to recognize her discomfort, he carefully brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, before settling his arm around her waist. She swallowed, choosing to ignore the confusing gesture, instead focusing her gaze on the television.

As the third episode they watched that night began to play, she could feel her eyes begin to droop and her breathing become heavier. The soothing symbols Gabriel was tracing on the skin of her waist just beneath her shirt did nothing to help her situation as her eyes finally fluttered closed, and the steady rise and fall of his chest lulled her to sleep.

Several hours later, she awoke feeling more refreshed than she had in years. There was a new strength in her limbs, and the aches pains she had collected alongside Sam and Dean were gone. She sighed happily, nuzzling her face further into her soft, warm, giant pillow. Except the pillow had a heartbeat.

"Morning, sunshine," the gentle voice rumbled through her pillow's chest.

Her response was a sound that could have been "morning," but it was too muffled for anyone to understand.

Gabriel chuckled, and her head bounced slightly on his chest. She moved to stretch, accidentally whacking him in the face with her elbow.

" _Ow_ ," he whined, a playfully indignant tone to his voice.

"Ow yourself," she muttered, smiling into his chest as she stretched her arms above their heads.

Instead of moving to get up as Gabriel would have predicted, she simply rolled over and closed her eyes. He hesitated a moment before tentatively asking, "Em? Uh…whatcha doing?"

Her response was another incoherent mumble as her arms moved to hug him. Gabriel chuckled, knowing exactly how to coax her to rise. "Hey. You want some pancakes?"

Head immediately rising from the pillow, she mumbled, "Chocolate chip?"

"Of course. But you have to get up first," he said.

She groaned, dropping her head back onto his chest before reluctantly pushing herself up a moment later. "Atta girl. Now how many do you want?"

He helped steady her as she stood, and she thought for a moment before answering. "Three."

"Coming right up."

"I'ma get changed," she muttered, stumbling into the bedroom. A quick shower gave her a chance to wake up, and Gabriel called her into the kitchen just as she finished brushing her hair.

"Pancakes and coffee, madam," he smirked, placing the steaming mug by her plate.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she smiled, taking a long sip of the drink.

"So," he began, sitting across from her and pouring an ample amount of syrup on his pancakes, "your boys are fine. They got to the town pretty late last night, but they stared asking around this morning."

"You've been in contact with them?" she asked, glancing up from her pancakes.

"Answered your phone while you were sleeping. I figured they'd worry if no one picked up," he explained.

"What time is it?"

"Noon-ish," he replied.

"Crap. I'm sorry. Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked.

He shrugged, swallowing a large mouthful of his overly-sweet pancakes. "You need the sleep. You're recovering."

"I'm not recovering; I'm fine," she argued.

"You are still recovering. And I want to see your wings after breakfast."

"What? Why?"

"Are they healthy?" She hesitated, unsure of the answer. "That's why."

She sighed. "Gabe-"

"Why are you so uncomfortable with them after all this time?" he seemed genuinely curious. "They're a part of you."

Emily stared down at her plate, not knowing how to respond. Gabriel's hand found hers on the table, and he said softly, "I just want to make sure you're okay. Come on. Finish eating."


	6. Chapter 6

An hour later, they stood side by side on the shore the lake, half a mile behind the ranch. Emily moved to take off her shorts as she normally did, but she hesitated, her mind going back to their conversation in Italy. She sighed, pulling up her hair instead.

Gabriel led her halfway down the dock before kicking off his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head. He turned around, immediately noticing her hesitation. He sighed. "We should talk about it."

"Talk about what?" she feigned ignorance, pulling off her shoes.

"That night in Italy…before you left."

"Why?"

"Because those two weeks are happening all over again, and I can't loose you like that a second time."

She swallowed, looking up at him for the first time since he began. "You're not going to loose me," she promised with the utmost sincerity. Gabriel stared back at her in silence. "I…I'm sorry for how I acted back then. I guess I just didn't know how to handle it. I made it weird."

He sat down on the edge of the pier, letting the water lap at his feet. "I never should have said anything. It was my fault."

"No it wan't, Gabe." She sat down beside him, her feet barely reaching the water. "I guess…I guess I feel a little guilty…about not being able to reciprocate how you feel."

"No…no, there's no reason you should feel guilty."

"I know," she sighed, moving her hands from her lap to hold the edge of the wood beneath her as she stared at their feet. "I just hate when you're hurt, especially if I'm the one who did it."

Gabriel moved his hand to cover hers, an intimate gesture of friendship and loyalty that had her looking up at him. He took a breath. "It hurt me more when you left rather than the fact that you didn't feel the same way.

"Look, Em. You have my word that I will never act on how I feel about you. I never want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. I just…I just miss you."

She stared at him for a moment, before leaning her head on his shoulder. "You're my best friend, you know that?"

He chuckled. "You've told me."

"Well, I'm here now, so…"

"Yeah," he smiled, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Hey," he muttered.

"Hm?"

"Why did the ghost take the elevator?"

"What?" She looked up at him. That familiar twinkle was back in his eyes; the one that made her heart skip ever time.

"Why did the ghost take the elevator?' he repeated.

She was grinning now. "Why?"

"To lift up his spirit."

She smiled, giggling slightly.

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Dishes."

"Dishes who?" She bit her lip to stop from smiling.

"Dishes a very bad joke."

"Oh my God," she laughed, clutching at his arm. "That was so awful!"

"My specialty," he grinned.

She straightened up. "Wait, waitwait, I got one. How do two oceans greet each other?"

"How?"

"They wave!" He burst out laughing.

"H-hey. What's giant, green, and sits an a corner crying?"

"What?" She desperately attempted to stop herself from laughing prematurely.

"The Incredible Sulk."

Emily began laughing so hard that she began to cramp from lack of oxygen. "That was fantastic," she gasped, doubling over. " _The Incredible Sulk._ "

Suddenly, she slipped from the edge of the dock, slashing into the lake. "Em!" Gabriel cried, immediately dropping into the water beside her. He swiftly pulled her out of the water, holding her to his chest as she tried to regain her balance.

"Oh my God," she gasped, still trying not to burst out laughing. "I haven't laughed that hard in…oh, I don't even remember…"

"Are - are you okay?" the bewildered archangel asked hesitantly.

"Sorry," she smiled, moving to fully stand. "God, I missed you."

"Yeah, well you can blame Him." There was a hint of malice to his voice that she chose to ignore. He sighed, and all the negative emotions seemed to fly from his body. "Okay, sweetheart, you good?'

"Uh huh," she grinned up at him, retying her soaked hair.

"So, I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She froze, staring up at him with her hands still tangled in her hair. "What?"

Gabriel seemed clueless for a moment before everything clicked. " _Oh_. No - _no_ , I meant what I said. I was talking about you wings."

"Oh," she breathed, mentally kicking herself. "I'm sorry."

"I see my pervertedness has finally rubbed off on you, young padawan," he smiled smugly.

She crossed her arms. "Shadup." He wagged his eyebrows in response. "Are we gonna do this or what?" she sighed.

"You want a bathing suit, or do you wanna sit in your soaked shorts?"

"I thought-"

"I've still got some juice." He wiggled his fingers as if it was a bad occult '80's move, and Emily was suddenly in a bright red string bikini with pink hearts.

"Really?" she eyed him carefully.

Gabriel shrugged innocently. "What?" She crossed her arms, fixing him with a cold glare, conscious of the fact still only inches from her. "That stance isn't helping your situation," he winked.

She viciously points a finger at him, ready to explode, when her bikini suddenly changed into a more conservative outfit, the top covering her stomach and the bottoms attached to a skirt. "It wouldn't be you if you didn't push the envelope," she sighed.

He winked. Before he seemed to realize what he was doing, his fingers were gently caressing the side of her face, brushing the gold feathers intertwined with the auburn stands of her hair. Since her interaction with Death, she had kept the feathers out in the open instead of hiding them beneath her hair.

There was a sort of softness to his gaze that she couldn't quite place, but it was soon covered with his normal, playful smirk. "So, shall we?"

She turned her back to him, carefully spreading her wings as to avoid hitting him. He sighed heavily as his eyes raked over the poorly healed injuries that she had sustained in the last few months. "It's not that bad," she said.

He didn't answer, only gently dragging his fingers across the top of her right wing. "I can fix them."


End file.
